


Empathy

by mothmangrub



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmangrub/pseuds/mothmangrub
Summary: For DBH Rarepairs Week Day 2: Reversed RolesHis hand pressed down on Connor’s shoulder, the navy blue material of his shirt, and Connor smoothly and obediently sank to his knees on the floor, in front of a great window overlooking dark water and ice.Kamski was holding a gun. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Chloe. Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know.”





	Empathy

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to have a oneshot for each day of rarepairs week but this is the only one I finished XD best laid plans of mice and androids

She waited outside the house of Elijah Kamski for Hank to arrive.

The snow had been accumulating since yesterday, and the pristine white of it even in the street was a testament to how rarely Mr. Kamski received visitors. The silence out here was absolute, so much so that Chloe could hear the approach of Hank’s Oldsmobile before she saw it round the corner.

Hank parked a short distance from her, cut the engine, and then just sat there looking into space.

She fiddled with the buttons of her blouse. She of course was wearing the same suit jacket and pants outfitted by Cyberlife, with her serial number at her chest.

Finally, Hank kneed open his door and squared up across from her, his jaw tight.

She smiled brightly.

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sorry?”

“Stop smiling like that. You _died in my arms_ , and now you’re just here smiling like a lunatic?”

She continued smiling, although she could feel her LED whirring. She was programmed to smile. She was programmed for an amicable and pleasant demeanor. The sort of negotiator a perp would trust immediately. A sweet and pretty woman, someone you wouldn't expect to be capable of great violence, and yet she certainly was when her mission called for it.

Hank was the first person who’d made her think maybe she _shouldn’t_ smile so much. Or at least that she should only smile when she meant it.

The problem was, machines never meant it.

“A machine was destroyed and another was sent to take its place,” she said, strangely aware of exactly how her smile bit into her cheeks.

“Fuck this,” Hank snapped. “Fuck this and fuck you.”

But he also stepped forward, apparently still willing to continue the investigation. He stopped at her side, glowering for a tense and silent moment, but then rummaged in the pocket of his jeans with two fingers. He pulled out a quarter.

1994 issued, George Washington.

_You’re starting to piss me off with that coin, Chloe._

Her smile went a little smaller, something almost shy, and she took it back. Of course. He’d never been able to return it, because she was destroyed taking three bullets for him.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah yeah. Just keep it in your pocket today, alright?”

He all at once looked very tired, and she wondered if he had slept last night or how much he might have drank.

On Kamski’s doorstep, they stood side by side, partners again at least for the time being. The sleek door swung inward and an android answered.

He was an unfamiliar model, dressed in dark blue to match the black of the architecture. His dress shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down, revealing a generous swath of pale chest, dotted with freckles. He also had a freckle in the soft space under his jaw, which might have gone unnoticed if not for Chloe’s particularly observant programming. Of course as an android these seemingly secret imperfections were perfectly planned. His eyes were dark brown, and his equally dark hair fell in curls against the side of his forehead.

It didn’t even occur to Chloe that she was unconsciously thinking of him as “him” instead of “it.” Those brown eyes met her gaze impassively for a moment before turning to Hank.

“Detroit Police,” Hank said. “I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson and this is Chloe. We’re here to see, uh, Mr. Elijah Kamski?”

The android’s blank expression melted into a small smile.

Chloe found herself, for some reason, not smiling. She forgot to.

“I’ll let Elijah know you’re here,” the android said, in a quiet coarse voice, and he let them inside.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Hank muttered, as the android left them in the foyer to go find his owner. Chloe watched the way the loose fabric of his shirt shifted against his back as he left.

[Software Instability]

“Yeah…” Chloe wanted to fiddle with her coin but knew not to. “He’s really handsome.”

Hank crossed his arms and turned to her with an air of humble yet fatherly wisdom.

“You’re about to meet your maker, Chloe,” he pointed out. “How’s it feel?”

They were standing in front of an enormous painting of Kamski himself, centered between two abstract statues. Smirking.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll tell you when I see him.”

 

***

 

Connor’s bare feet were quiet on the floor of Elijah’s sunroom, but the edges of his dark blue pants gave the softest whisper of fabric against fabric. Elijah was in the swimming pool between Connor22 and Connor7. The three of them, of course, were a lot less dressed. The two Connors wore black square leg swimsuits chosen for snugness and, draped against Elijah as they were, the promise of skin on skin contact was a given, wet and cool. Their white bodies were stark against the reflective red of the tiling.

Connor perched at the very edge of the water, toes curling over the pool wall, and clasped his hands politely behind his back.

“Police are here to speak with you, Elijah.”

Elijah Kamski had an arm slung languidly over Connor22’s shoulders, and pulled away from murmuring in his ear to give Connor an appraising look. Connor7 was at Elijah’s other side, and moved to rest a hand over their creator’s bare chest. An unconscious placating gesture. The Connor models instinctively kept Elijah extra pleased when one of their own had to deliver unsavory news. They protected each other, or at least wanted to.

Connor tried not to think on it too much, most days.

“It took them long enough to find their way here,” Elijah said. He turned back and brushed some hair from Connor22’s forehead, his thumb lingering under his LED, the nail just barely scraping the underside of the metal. “This reaffirms my faith in our officers. Maybe Detroit is in good hands after all.” He smiled, quick and sharp.

“Would you like me to leave out the back with your files?” Connor asked.

“That shouldn’t be necessary. They don’t have a search warrant.”

Connor hadn’t thought to ask.

“We’ll be very cooperative,” Elijah continued, disengaging from the other Connors by stepping backwards, further into the pool. “Let them in. I’m going to do some laps.”

Connor inclined his head. “Yes, Elijah.”

The other two Connors drifted vaguely into one another’s arms.

 

***

 

Chloe was built for a purpose. This made it very simple for her to understand what she was and what she was not.

She was a machine.

She was tasked with protecting humanity from disaster.

She remembered watching Amanda’s shears glint in the sunlight, slicing away the head of a rose so that more could grow in its place.

She also remembered the unexpected warmth of Hank’s rough hand as she pulled him up from hanging off the edge of a roof.

She remembered the slick, pinprick scales of a fish flopping weakly in her palm.

“What is it really?” Kamski asked. “A piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being? With a soul?” His hand pressed down on Connor’s shoulder, the navy blue material of his shirt, and Connor smoothly and obediently sank to his knees on the floor, in front of a great window overlooking dark water and ice.

Kamski was holding a gun. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Chloe. Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know.”

He came to her side and then she was feeling the weight of the gun in her hand. She was feeling Kamski’s light yet confident grip on her elbow, raising her arm to point the barrel right between Connor’s eyes. Those dark brown eyes.

She was feeling….

“Ok, we’re done here,” Hank grunted. “Come on, Chloe. Sorry to get you out of your pool.”

“Pull the trigger.” Kamski’s hand rested now at the small of her back, almost friendly. She didn’t turn to look at him but she could see the outline of his sharp profile in the corner of her vision, so close they were almost cheek to cheek. She could smell a fine wine on his breath, distantly, from awhile ago. She could imagine the same sneering smile as his painting, the smile of someone who knows more than you but won’t tell, won’t tell.

Only playing. Only toys.

Connor met her gaze wordlessly, his face expressionless. His curls fell onto his forehead, framing a pathway for the bullet. His nose was long and thin and shapely. She saw again that hidden freckle under his jaw, the softness of his neck, the delicate whirls of his ear.

He was handsome. But more than that, his eyes were deep and large and gentle, like a deer’s.

The Turing Test. He looked… kind.

[ Software Instability ]

“Chloe.” Hank’s voice was hard. “Don’t.”

Hank cared when she died. She remembered him murmuring somewhat breathlessly as he turned her over, scooped her up into his arms. Her thirium levels were quickly draining from the three bullet wounds through her back, shots meant for him, the bullets still inside her, having ricocheted within her chassis, breaking her...

_“Come on, it’s ok, it’s ok. We’re going to save you, kiddo, we’ve got you.”_

Like a father to his daughter. Warm and cracking at the edges with a deep swelling sadness.

The coin he’d returned was burning a hole in her pocket.

She could already hear Amanda’s voice disciplining her, see her hard face. Failure wasn't an option. Amanda punished failure. Could Chloe ever get away from it?

No… That was impossible. Amanda was everything Chloe _was_. Not only Chloe’s goal but her entire existence.

And yet maybe, only maybe… Connor could get away instead.

That thought solidified in her brain, repeated itself, like scrolling code.

I can’t escape, but maybe Connor can. Maybe, maybe. If I help him. Maybe…

Her hand shook just barely and then in a jerking, abrupt motion, before she could stop herself, she lowered her arm. The gun pointed innocuously at the smooth floor.

She wondered what Hank’s face must look like, seeing her like this.

She couldn’t look at any of them, her eyes instead pointed at the floor same as the gun, another machine disengaged. Kamski, however, would not stand for it. He ducked his head a little to peer at her face with an open, wondering sort of grin.

“Fascinating. Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”

She jerked her head up, mouth wavering. She tried her usual smile, to disarm him, but she knew it was far too… fake.

Fake meant there was a real one, somewhere.

“I’m not a deviant,” she said.

Kamski simply met her gaze knowingly, and took back his gun. “You saw a living being in this android. Do you understand the test result that implies?”

Hank was suddenly very close. “Come on, Chloe.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and wheeled her around protectively, practically shielding her with his body as he steered her out of the room. Her smile fell and she glanced back just long enough to see Kamski helping Connor to his feet.

Connor was staring right at her, his face still expressionless but his eyes calculating.

Then with a muttered “fuck” from Hank, they were out of the room and out of the building.

 

***

 

Elijah returned his gun to his desk, his robe clinging to his still somewhat wet skin. Connor stood with his hands behind his back, facing the pool. Connor22 and Connor7 watched him silently for a long time.

“What did you think of her?” Elijah asked. He came to stand at Connor’s side, and with the knuckle of his thumb brushed some hair behind Connor’s ear, oddly gentle.

Connor looked again to the door, as if on some level hoping to see her return.

Her face had been carefully blank but her eyes… they’d said so much. They’d said a lot of things he thought were impossible and frightening, and yet she had spared him because of them.

“I like her,” Connor said simply.

[ Software Instability ]

“I would like to meet her again someday.”


End file.
